


When My Baby Found Me

by Tall_forest_tales



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier is a thot™️, M/M, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, and it finally catches up with him, but not really, just in case, single dad!Jaskier needs more representation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23178199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tall_forest_tales/pseuds/Tall_forest_tales
Summary: What is says on the tin, folks.Ps this is the first fanfic I’ve ever posted please be kind in the comments
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 23
Kudos: 288





	When My Baby Found Me

“Bard.”

Jaskier glanced up from tuning his instrument, just having completed his final set of the night, trying to earn a bit of coin to line his pockets while Geralt was out on another job deemed “too dangerous” for the bard to tag along, as Geralt had gruffly put it.

Before him stood a man in ragged clothes fit for a farmer with a ragged look on his face to match, periodically shifting his attention to the cooing bundle of cloth cradled in his arms, then back to the bard.

“Can I help you, my good sir?” Jaskier inquired, turning his full attention to the man in front of him.

“Aye,” the man said hoarsely and just then Jaskier took in the weariness that seemed to drag him down, the wetness gathering in his eyes.

“You passed through here near a summer ago, with the Witcher summoned to rid us of those damn drowners.”

“Ah, I remember, quite the concert I put on that night! Though I do apologize, I cannot give you an encore again tonight,” Jaskier replied, pasting on an easy smile to hide the unease creeping down his spine.

“Oh, you gave us a pretty tune, alright, but you took our gold, took my _daughter_ as well,” the man seethed, causing the bundle in his arms to whine.

Jaskiers heart rose to his throat, beating hard in his ears. Many a times he’d had to watch his back, keeping it clear of the knives of cuckolded spouses and furious parents alike, but caught so off guard by the broken appearance of the man he felt any defence sputter and die before it could pass his lips.

“And then you left, left her alone to bring your child into this world by herself.”

“You must be mistaken sir, certainly I would never-” Jaksier exclaimed, his mind racing. _A child_. Jaskier was alway so careful as to prevent anything _unplanned_ , to only leave behind the occasional broken heart, but if what the man said was true, then that would mean the child in his arms well–

Jaksier’s internal panic was interrupted by the man again.

“No, I saw you, you bastard, sneaking out her window with the dawn, and you left this behind!” The man slammed a small parcel onto the table, a small crystal threaded through with dark twine and oh, did Jaksier remember that night, beautiful Sonia and her beautiful mind, a fiery young woman whom Jaskier fell madly for in the brief time he’d been in the village last, thinking of her and her journey as a healer long after he’d left.

“I promise you sir, I never meant,” Jaksier tried, only to be stopped once more.

“ _Quiet!_ You both made your choice, I cannot blame you for that. But now, my beautiful Sonia is gone.”

“Gone, surely you can’t mean?” Jaskier faltered, the man concerning his worst fears with a curt nod, visibly straining to contain his grief.

“Aye, after helping heal the sick in the last outbreak. Died a hero's death, she did.”

A hand came up to cover Jaksier’s mouth, his throat growing right with unshed tears over the departure of such a beauty. “I am truly sorry, sir, for your loss, but I don’t believe I understand what you want from me. Surely vengeance–”

“Vengeance!” The man barked, baring his teeth. “My daughter is gone, I’ve barely the coin to feed myself, let alone a growing child, and here you are. It seems for once Destiny has followed through. I know you bard, I know the places you’ve been. As much as it pains me, losing the last piece I have of Sonia, the child will starve to death in this shithole of a town. So nay, it’s not vengeance I’m after.”

“Then what could you possibly want from me?” Jaksier urged.

“It’s time you took responsibility for what you’ve done.” With that the man stepped close, depositing the babe into Jaskier’s stunned arms with the utmost of care.

Jaskier instinctually moved to cradle the child, pulling it close despite wanting to thrust it back at the man. “I’m sorry, there truly must be some mistake here. Even if I had been with Sonia, you’ve no proof- really, it could be anyone’s child, and–” 

“Damn you! He was born near nine months after you left, it's as plain as day he’s your own blood, and if you leave him here like you did my daughter you leave him to die.” 

With the man’s condemnation the babe finally woke and cried out, and Jaskier looked down to see beautiful pooling eyes, a perfect reflection of his own staring back up at him like he was the entire world. Jaskier tried to sooth the child, looking back to the man for aid.

The man simply shook his head, eyes darkening. “He’s yours now, bard. It’s on you to honor my Sonia, give him the life she wanted and that I couldn’t provide.”

The man fished an envelope out from his cloak, handed it to a stunned Jaksier who only took it on reflex, and with that was gone, through the tavern and out into the night, leaving Jaksier to pick up the pieces of his shattered world and put them back together into something entirely new.  
….

Jaskier heaved a great sigh as he leaned back against the shut door of his chamber in the inn, fully aware that every pair of eyes in the tavern had been set upon him. He only took a moment to gather himself before bringing his attention to the still howling babe in his arms, red faced and squirming with all of its might. The pair of lungs on the child alone could be ample proof that he was Jaskier’s, voice already as powerful as his father’s. Oh sweet Melitele, Jaskier was a _father_.

But there was no time for that breakdown quite yet. Moving just quick enough to not startle the child further, Jaskier crossed the room and sat down on the bed. He shifted the baby so it’s head was cradled in between his neck and shoulder, ever so cautiously rocking them both up and down.

“Alright now, darling, none of that,” Jaskier soothed, heart rate spiking as nothing he did in that regard seemed to calm the child down. Right. What else did he know about babies?

Well, there wasn’t much he could do for now in the food department, seeing as he was severely lacking the source for that, but there had to be something else he could try in the meantime. Thinking quickly, Jaskier abandoned the child for but a moment to ask a passing maid if she could procure some warm milk and have it sent to his room. Then he rushed back only to see that all progress in soothing the babe had been lost. He gingerly picked it back up again and presumed rocking, continuing the soft motion until a stench slowly made itself known. It wasn’t unlike the time his Witcher had returned simply coated in Selkimore guts, but Geralt wasn’t due to return until morning and he’d been sent after a kikimore anyways, so what could be–

Jaskier looked down at the bundle and sniffed the air again, flushing green as the realization dawned upon him. Well, really, it couldn’t be any more difficult than washing up after a grouchy Witcher fresh from the guy of a selkimore, could it?

After losing his fourth, third, and second best chemise to the utter mess coming from seemingly _everywhere_ on the child, Jaskier swore to himself to never complain about Geralt’s impatience for Jaskier’s doting again. Regardless, the child was now clean, and it’s sniffles had lessened considerably after its dip in the washbasin. And in the meantime, the maid had returned with a pitcher of warm milk and a clean rag, leaving Jaskier with a knowing look. But after helping the child suck milk from the rag, and then cleaning it up _once again_ after it spat up on Jaskier’s best and final chemise, it still hadn’t calmed completely, and Jaskier was nearing his wits end. Had he been this difficult as a baby? He shuddered at the idea of going home to find out. What would his parents say if they could see him now, a traveling bard with a child out of wedlock. Not that they’d ever approved of his lifestyle in the first place, he supposed.

Now completely bare chested, Jaskier huffed in defeat and brought the baby to his collar once more, praying that it would tire itself out. He hummed a simple tune under his breath while slowly rocking back and forth, overwhelmed with relief as that seemed to do the trick, the babe nuzzling into the warmth of his bare skin and drifting off, finally sated. Jaskier took a brief moment to stare in wonder at the tiny life bundled up in his arms, to feel the tiny heart beating against his own.

The babe was all alone in the world, so dependent on someone else to protect it, someone to love and nurture it. But no, that wasn’t right. Jaskier was there now, he had to be the one to protect and love, he was all the baby, his babe, his son had left. No one else. Just him.

Jaskier’s knees nearly gave out and he laughed, equal parts giddy and dizzy with the thought. The exhaustion of trying to calm the child finally caught up with him. Careful as to not wake him, Jaskier quickly crafted a sort of nest out of the blankets he usually used on the road and placed his babe inside before laying down on the bed next to the makeshift cradle, out before his head even hit the inn’s poor excuse for a pillow.

….

Jaskier woke to the sound of crying and nearly joined in when he realized what, or rather _who_ , it was. The sun was just barely peeking through the tiny window of the chamber, casting the room in waves of early morning shadows. He felt like he’d been run over by Roach, swallowed by a selkimore, and spat out again, but as much as he wanted to lie stock still and wait for the crying to die down, he knew he couldn’t. This was his life now, he supposed.

With a soft groan Jaskier rolled to his side, coming face to face with his wailing ward.

“Good morning to you too, little sir,” Jaskier huffed, pulling his son out, bracing him against his chest, and sitting up in one remarkably smooth motion.

“Now, now, I’m here. No more tears,” Jaskier soothed, once again bouncing the child gently. He went to check and just his luck, another changing was in order, but Jaskier was out of linens and he very much doubted Geralt would appreciate–

Sweet gods above. Geralt.

In his bewildered state the previous night, Jaskier had forgotten all about _his_ Witcher, something Jaskier hadn’t yet grown used to but was in the back of his mind each and every day, warming his core–which was unimportant, as regardless of what Geralt was to Jaskier, he was due to return from his hunt at any moment and Jaskier has acquired a _baby_ in the time he’d been gone, a baby which was _his_ , a baby who’s _name and date of birth was unknown to him, the father–_

And what would Geralt think of him? Jaskier has worked so hard to prove that he could be responsible, that Geralt hadn’t made a mistake all those years ago by allowing Jaksier to travel by his side, that he could handle the grit and grime that came with the Path and now here he was, his promiscuity finally catching up with him in a way he couldn’t talk his way out of.

As if sensing his father’s panic, the baby revved up again, letting out a piercing cry loud enough to bring Jaskier out of his downward spiral.

“Oh, oh please, don’t cry, darling. Please, please stop crying,” Jaskier begged, rocking the child with little success. Heavy boots sounded in the hall outside, right on time. Fuck.

Thinking quickly, Jaskier brought his son back to the makeshift cradle, tucking him back in safe and sound before giving him the milk soaked rag as a peace offering. The babe quieted down some at that and Jaksier sighed with relief. He just needed some time to explain, that was all. Everything would be fine.

Jaskier rushed to the door, swinging it open to reveal a filthy Witcher just about to reach for the handle himself.

“Jaskier,” Geralt greeted with a pleased sounding growl, the twitch of his lip revealing his happiness to see his bard. “Excited to see me?”

Jaskier could imagine what he looked like to Geralt at the moment, bare chested and flushed as he was, and perhaps one day he would greet the Witcher in a similar manner but now was really not the time. _Really not the time,_ Jaskier reminded himself, regretfully pulling away from the kisses Geralt was pushing against his jaw.

“Only always, dear Witcher. But I need,” Jaskier began, only to be cut off by Geralt pressing his lips to the bard’s again. Obviously the job was not as difficult as Geralt had anticipated, leaving him with an extra energy that in any other day Jaskier would have _gladly_ assisted in, erm, _burning off_ , so to speak.

“Oh, I know how you _need_ , Bard, don’t worry, I’ll–” Geralt interrupted, only to trail off, staring past Jaskier’s shoulder and into the main room. Before Jaskier’s very eyes Geralt seemed to close off, the walls Jaskier spent years breaking down building back up again. 

“You’ve...I see,” Geralt muttered, leaving Jaksier completely confused.

With a grunt Geralt pushed past Jaskier before the bard could even ask, entering the chamber. Jaskier chased after him, nearly falling on his ass as Geralt unexpectedly came to a halt, letting Jaskier slam into his armored shoulder.

“Jaskier.”

“...Yes?”

“There’s a baby. On our bed.”

Something preened inside of Jaskier at the way Geralt said _our bed_ , but it was surmounted by the panic rapidly growing in his chest.

“Is there?” He weakly tried, to no avail.

“Bard, _explain_ ,” Geralt commanded.

Jaskier burst into tears.

The panic, the grief, the exhaustion, all of it broke through the already flimsy damn of his heart, flooding forward in the form of tears. Distantly, he felt sturdy arms come to pull him in tight against an armored chest, a gloved hand resting tentatively against his neck. It only made Jaskier cry harder. Geralt was so good, trying so hard to be there for Jaskier, and all Jaksier has ever done was make trouble for him, even now.

After what could have been hours, Jaskier finally came back to himself enough to realize his son was crying as well. With one last pitiful sniffle he pushed away and Geralt let him go, watching with furrowed eyebrows as Jaskier scooped his son up and pressed him back against his chest. Immediately the child began to settle. Not completely, but hopefully enough for Jaskier to have this conversation.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, don’t worry,” Jaskier whispered to his babe as he turned to face reality.

Geralt was staring at him, not in anger but in concern, and Jaskier could cry all over again.

“Jaskier? Did you steal a baby?” Geralt asked, drawing a shocked laugh out of Jaskier.

“Oh, no no no, Geralt, I would never– you’ll have to try dear Yen for that one.” Jaskier’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, shame burning hot down the nape of his neck. Surely this was it, Geralt would turn and grab his supplies, not even gracing Jaskier with a final goodbye.

“Then where did it come from?”

Right. Time to get it over with.

“He’s mine, actually. He’s my son.”

“How?” 

Well. Geralt seemed shocked, to say the least, but not like he was one foot out the door. Maybe Jaksier could salvage this somehow. When Jaskier remained silent, Geralt stepped forward, his hand almost coming up to graze the soft hair on the babe’s head before falling back. It was as if he thought he shouldn’t, as if that wasn’t something Jaksier just realized he desperately needed to see, the love of his life holding his child.

“Well, Geralt, when a man and a woman love each other very much,” Jaskier joked, the words turning to ash in his mouth as he realized how that sounded. “Wait, I don’t mean to say–” Geralt cut him off, not unkindly.

“I know. Just, explain what happened.”

“Jaskier?” Geralt tried again, consciously softening his voice when the bard didn’t answer.

It was only because of the unnatural hush of Geralt’s voice that Jaskier could find his own.

“The last time we were here, there was a girl…” Jaskier trailed off, eyes widening.

“Before us, Geralt,” Jaskier promised tearfully. “I swear to you, I would never willingly–”

Geralt hushed him gently. “Alright, bardling, I know. Continue,” he urged.

“I had no idea, we were so careful. But her father came to me last night, baby in hand. She’s gone, Geralt, and no one else can take care of him. He has no one left, but me. I’m sorry.” Jaskier finished by averting his eyes, unable to meet Geralt’s gaze.

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier forced himself to look up, taking in Geralt’s carefully guarded expression.

“If the child is yours, then Cirilla will be pleased to have someone else besides us Witchers to roam the halls of Kaer Morhen with.”

Realization struck Jaskier all at once and he teared up again, pressing his forehead against Geralt’s chest, his child tucked safely between them. Geralt wasn’t angry, he wouldn’t abandon Jaskier to fend for himself and his child, what they hadn’t been shattered and strewn across the floor.

“Thank you, gods above Geralt do I love you, thank you, thank you so much,” Jaskier whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut to block the tears from falling.

“Don’t thank me, Jaskier. He’s a part of you, and I promised myself to all of you, remember?” Geralt comforted, and he had, that fateful night then they’d left each other raw and exposed, but had finally cleared the air.

“In all honesty, when I heard another heartbeat in the room I thought you’d finally… gotten bored of me,” Geralt admitted. Jaskier gripped him with his free hand.

“Never, gods Geralt, I could _never_ ,” he choked out.

Geralt _hmmed_ reassuringly. 

“That’s enough talking for one night, then?”Jaskier laughed, a weight removed from his chest. Geralt simply huffed again, a small smile crossing his features.

“What’s the pup’s name, then?” He asked in lieu of an answer, sending Jaskier into another panic.

“Oh gods, I don’t know! I don’t even know his birthday, I’m a horrible father, how am I to care for him when I don’t even know–” 

One of Geralt’s large gloves hands came up to cover Jaskier’s mouth– which, _disgusting_ , Geralt– effectively cutting off his rambling.

“Jaskier. Calm down. Think. Did the girl's father say anything?” Geralt prompted before removing his hand.

“Right. Erm, no, but–oh!” Jaskier recalled, “he gave me a letter, gods am I stupid!”

With that he gently transferred his child into Geralt’s arms, laughing silently as the big bad Witcher froze up when faced with a harmless _babe_.

“Jaskier,” Geralt warned, Jaskier cutting him off.

“Hush, he’ll have to get used to you eventually if he’s going to grow up surrounded by Witchers,” Jaskier reminded him, shuffling through the pile of sheet music on the chamber’s small table in search of the letter. Damn his organizational skills, or lack thereof. Geralt was right, he really ought to get another folder before he left town– “Aha!” Jaskier cried, ending his own rambling thoughts as he came up with the letter, tearing it open and pouring over the delicate script.

“Oh, _Sonia_ ,” he breathed, overcome once again by emotion.

When he finally looked up from the letter, the final message from the mother of his child, it was to see Geralt watching the baby cradled in his large hands. The babe’s own had escaped from his makeshift swaddle and were reaching up curiously to grab at a few loose locks of Geralt’s snowy hair. Jaskier’s heart swelled at the sight, threatening to burst as Geralt softly cooed at his son in return, unaware that Jaskier was unabashedly staring.

“Mika,” Jaskier softly called. Geralt looked up and had Jaskier not been traveling with him for decades, he might have missed the embarrassed glint in his eyes at being caught acting so soft. Jaskier simply shook his head with a smile, reaching out to take his nearly-a-year-old son, _his Mika_ , from Geralt’s steady hands.

“His full name is Mikolaj Pankratz, of course, but that’s much too dull a name for a baby, don’t you think?” Jaksier wondered aloud.

“One name, like his father,” Geralt mused and then it was Jaskier’s turn to hum in response.

A quiet minute passed, the two watching in awe as the splitting image of Jaskier wriggled about in the man’s arms. Jaskier was the first to break the peace.

“Well, now that the excitement is over, you, dear Witcher, are in dire need of a bath, especially if you want to hold Mika again,” he cajoled, an unsaid _please say you want to hold him again_ hanging in the air.

Geralt hmmed. “Surely I’m not the only one,” he argued, motioning towards a fussing Mika. 

“Oh, about that. You have a spare shirt, right?”

….

And if anyone thought it strange–the picture of a grouchy Witcher and a smiling bard swimming in a far too large tunic with a crystal adorned babe strapped to him in place of a lute leaving town on horseback–well, no one was fool enough to ask.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I just wanted Jaskier with a cute baby and decided to do it myself, ya know?
> 
> Anyways, the title is from Hozier’s Work Song
> 
> Thank you as always to my beta reader Parks, and let me know in the comments if y’all want to see more single dad! Jaksier :)


End file.
